There Are Times
by FantasyTrepie14
Summary: Chapter 5 added! (Does anyone remember this story?) Another 'familiar' character takes Utena to meet one of the most important men of her former life...
1. Default Chapter

There Are Times  
  
There are times when I feel that this is all there is to my life. And then other times, I feel like I am forgetting something very important. Like there is something I promised someone that I cared about. Something so horribly important and saddening that it gives me this huge pit in my heart, and no matter how much I sleep or how many hours of television I watch to take my mind off of it, it won't go away.  
  
When I don't feel that way though, I think that I'm naturally content and ignorant to what I must be missing. I know that I must be missing something, because every time I walk by a mirror, there seems to be someone else pounding on the back of my pupils, trying to be released. I can't shake off that feeling, so I avoid mirrors as much as possible. I feel horribly narcissistic when I stare at my reflection for that long.  
  
When I'm naked, yes I'll even talk about this because in my record of the search for myself, I find it imperative to be completely honest, I always touch this scar just below my chest cavity. It's fully healed now; after all it is just a white scar. A very small one too, though I can't imagine where it's from. The more I concentrate, it seems like the less I can remember. Because I don't know where it came from, or how I got it, it seems to tease me. It's always there, silently mocking me because I have no idea what's going on. Or where I am.  
  
That's silly, really, because I know where I am. I live in my own apartment, though I'm not sure where the money for rent comes from because I don't have a job. And I attend classes at this local community college; though I'm not sure why I chose it or why I am taking classes in botany. My professor got angry with me one day because I refused to pluck the petals off of a rose when we were doing research. There was something about the idea of stripping the flower of its beauty that enraged me.  
  
Roses catch my attention, especially. I think one day I even suggested we grow orange and green roses. Even though they don't exist, I know they don't exist; I was being sincere in my request. He got angry with me, and asked if I took the class seriously or not. Of course I do. There's a level of sincerity I feel towards roses that I can't really explain. I mean, they're beautiful and all. But I should be too much of a tomboy to care about flowers.  
  
Anyway, I guess the point of that little story was to say that I couldn't stand seeing roses with their petals ripped off...  
  
I'm always alone. I live alone, and during classes no one wants to so much as talk to me. Personally, I don't think I'm that weird, well not all the time anyway, and I overheard some girls whispering about me, saying that I act really detached and spacey. Like I'm 'Out of it' or something. I'm not going to disagree, because at times I feel as though this body is not my own. Like I'm living in this prolonged dream, and a quick stab to my chest is the only thing that can wake me. Sorry, I meant a pinch on the butt.  
  
So of course I walk to my classes alone. Everyday I stroll by this weird, corporate looking building, and this same woman is standing there outside, like she is on a cigarette break or something. I've talked to her a couple of times, but I never start the conversation. I hate talking to people, because afterwards I either have this sensation of regret for words I never said, or begin recalling words I might have said to this person before. But no, not now. More like a distant memory or dream.  
  
Especially with her. She's very tall and professional, with these vermilion curls decorating the sides of her face. But the rest of her hair falls past her back against that same professional looking business suit she always wears. Yes, she makes me feel very childish.  
  
I always feel embarrassed, because I'm always forgetting her name. I know that she's expecting me to ask anyway, and instead of answering right off, she gives me this mocking smile and asks if I've found my 'Special Someone' yet. I think she is just teasing me because she notices that I always walk alone, and that tomboys usually have trouble getting boyfriends. But when she pulls me aside she almost looks distraught that I don't recognize her, and even though I see her almost every day, I still come across a blank slate when I'm home alone later that day, trying to remember the color of her eyes, or what we had talked about that day.  
  
"For the hundredth time, you can call me Julie," she had said to me the last time I saw her.  
  
But no, with that smile she was giving me I felt like she was lying to me. Mocking, because that really wasn't her name, and because she knew I was so dense I wouldn't retort otherwise. And even now I am sure that can't really be her name, but I can't testify against it because I don't know what her name could really be.  
  
"Julie? Alright," I responded that last day, positive that for some reason I would remember it, though I can't recall forgetting it either. I wanted to be polite, I felt that I should since she was much older than myself, or maybe she really wasn't but I just got the impression that she was. Anyway, I extended a hand to introduce myself again, but she waved it away, saying that I had told her the false name too many times already.  
  
This day was different than the others, or maybe it was the same because I don't really recall my other encounters with her very well, but this time she started asking the most outlandish and eccentric questions. Like she expected me to be a hero in some movie, or a prince or something. Whatever it was she expected of me really perturbed me, and when I tried to walk away she grabbed my arm with a firm resolve.  
  
"It's okay, I didn't remember anything until I met him," she said as a statement of fact instead of trying to make me feel better. I shrugged away from her, angrily swarming through the concepts of love, roses and duels she was trying to impart on me. But either my curiosity or longing to find something more, even though I don't think I even trusted her, I asked who she was referring to.  
  
"Someone I'd like you to meet. Come with me," It was then that I marked her eyes were green, looking older than mine, yet also very stern and determined not to let me go. So, skipping my botany class for the day, I followed her.  
  
'Julie,' I am just going to address her as this because I have yet to discover her true identity, led me to some downtown smoky bar. I didn't want to go inside, or tell her that I was a year short of being the legal drinking age, or that I was scared there would be poisoned tea in my glass. That was always something else too. I never drink tea. For some reason I assume it'll kill me, like there will be an ancient Italian poison in it or something. I may be paranoid, but I swear I can remember someone, a girl I think, telling me she had poisoned my drink.  
  
I stared at every woman with dark skin that I came across on the way there. I felt dismayed when one wore pants, or her hair color wasn't what I had expected. I don't even know what color I was looking for now, and I probably didn't at the time, but because I'm so used to not finding what I am searching for, I just knew none of these woman were who I wanted.  
  
That is, assuming that I want someone. But I shrugged it off because being so attentive to members of my sex is unlike me. Well, being attentive to anyone, especially in that sort of way is unlike me.  
  
We took a seat at a small remote table. Juri, I mean Julie, sorry, didn't bother asking me if I wanted a drink, and she didn't order one for herself either. Instead, she pointed to the opposite corner at a young man, he must have been younger than me, seated at the piano. I was shocked to discover he looked even more feminine than I did. With his large, doe shaped blue eyes and matching cropped hair; I dare to say he was cute for his petite figure.  
  
The song he played was very lulling, and though I've never heard it before, I caught onto the tune and tapped my fingers to the beat on the table. My companion must have noticed this, because she stared at my fingers intently. That sharp gaze she drilled caught me off guard, and I stopped. While listening, I began to think of Gardens. A garden once lush and vast, with a set of twins playing at a piano with milkshakes sitting aside on a table, the sunshine gleaming as they happily mastered this duet. But then the image became twisted and cold, with long blades of beaten, dead grass and chopped down trees. Frankly, I was expecting something more than this garden I visited. Well, it's not like I have actually ever seen the garden he composed this song for.  
  
When his song was over, I admit this was a tune I had heard in my slumber many times; the tall woman with the orange curls dragged me over to him. When he noticed our presence, his eyes doubled their size when he caught sight of me. As if confirming I was a figure that he had a mental image of but had never actually laid eyes on, he gasped in amazement, and then looked to that woman who brought me there for an explanation.  
  
"Look at who I found," she stoically commented. I immediately felt insulted and confused that both of them now acted like they knew me. Then, on top of that, they began talking as if I was not even there.  
  
"But she doesn't remember anything. Not us, the duels... Not even her."  
  
The boy with the skied eyes immediately looked saddened. He looked at me, and with a sigh extended his hand. He acted like he didn't want to introduce himself, just like Julie had, as if I were supposed to already know him.  
  
"My name is Mickey," he offered while shaking my hand. His fingers were so small, but when I let go he still firmly grasped my hand as if to be sure he really was touching an illusion. That, or he seemed surprised to find someone with pink hair. I've always been self conscious about it too, and the way both of these strange people kept staring at me did not help my confidence at all.  
  
"How are you?" he asked before even asking me anything else more important, like my name, or where I lived. I know I wouldn't have been able to answer either of those questions anyway, but the idea that they knew more about me than I did was disturbing.  
  
"Is Mickey your real name?" I challenged, also glaring at the woman because I know for a fact that there were a lot of things, not just her name, that she wasn't telling me. He blinked in confusion, and for a second looked like he was insulted, but then he bellowed a light-hearted laugh. That resonating sound was familiar to me, just as much as Julie's stare and the scar on my body.  
  
"As far as I know," he smiled brightly. As far as I was concerned, something like 'Miki' sounded better to me, but just like the events as far back as I can remember, which only extend a couple of hours, I kept quite.  
  
There was a vase of blue roses sitting on top of his piano. Blue roses don't exist, at least I didn't think so, but after I blinked they became red. I must have spaced out just as those girls in my class had said I do, because I didn't overhear them talking about the search for some girl, and the fact that she would make me remember, or even when they said she hasn't been found since 'it' happened.  
  
"And just where are we supposed to start looking?" The stern woman said, then she patted my back, which snapped me back to this false reality. I cringed at the hard contact, and once I had realized what they said, I felt, even for a brief moment, the liberating feeling of complete understanding.  
  
"Roses."  
  
Both of them looked at me shocked, and I too was shocked to discover that was my voice. With a surprised blink, Juri - Or whatever her name is- nodded. For some reason I was caught off guard to see her agree with me, and without planning or preparation, she told me that I was to stay with her from now on. Determined, she vowed never to let me out of her sight.  
  
"I don't want to be protected!" I shouted at her. I must have really meant it, and it must have been something appropriate for my character I don't remember, because she laughed a bit and told me that I would have to deal. For now.  
  
For the first time I felt a piece of myself surface that I didn't recognize before. A strong, courageous and honest person welled up inside of me, and for a minute I was proud to say who I was. But then as quick as it came, I forgot everything I might have remembered, and surrendered when this stranger led me out of the bar.  
  
"We'll find her no matter what it takes. Then this will all be over, for good..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N - More to come hopefully, much later on after I finish work on my very long project I am doing now, but if get good ideas and good responses, then I plan on continuing this. Arigato Minna-san! ^_^ 


	2. There Are Times 2

Chapter 2...  
  
*~*~*  
  
There are times when I wonder whatever made me come to trust this Juri character. I still come undecided as to whether those long stares she gave me made me nervous and unsettled around her, or comfortable and relaxed. Either way, I obliged when she insisted (Rather forcefully, I might add) that I 'crash' in her apartment until some problem was solved. I knew nothing of any 'problem,' but because I was lonely and desperate for company - anyone's company- I agreed to follow her.  
  
Her apartment, for lack of a better word, was huge. Some posh condo in the corners of the city I'd never been familiar with, I assumed. The walls were white washed, the hallways decorated with dark, abstract art, and there were too many corridors.  
  
I hate big, confusing places. In my dreams, the only dreams I can ever seem to remember, I am walking through a crowded building with a lot of people my age. Except in it, I am younger. I am carefree, talkative, and everyone looks up to me even though I am quite the oddball, and even dress like a boy. Yeah, right.  
  
So anyway, Julie let me free to roam around her place when we entered. She seemed very casual with me. Actually, I am pretty sure I caught a somewhat amused feature cross her eyes when she saw my explicit awe at her living environment. I can't remember ever seeing something so beautiful... Or white. If I wasn't already mentally instable, the cleanliness of the place would have driven me insane.  
  
"Come here," she beckoned to me while I was trying to figure out some odd painting on her wall. It was a beautiful painting of a woman with caramel colored skin. She had long, beautiful purple hair. Her eyes were closed so I couldn't tell her eye color, but I bet it was a deep green just like Juri's. There were no clothes covering her body, but select parts were kept hidden by sketchy pictures of...Funny things. They were all at a far off point of view. Some looked like a man in a cape, I swore one looked like bells ringing, and yet another had a girl wearing a dress in it.  
  
The girl in the painting was incredible. I don't know what came over me, or what attracted me to her so much at the time, but I had to have her. Just as I reached out to touch her round cheek, I finally heard Julie's voice.  
  
"What are you looking at?" She grinned over from her couch. She was giving me yet another of those all-knowing looks. She didn't have to bother to ask me if she already knew the answer.  
  
I felt my cheeks go hot with both embarrassment and humility. Who keeps paintings of naked women hanging up in their living room anyway?  
  
When I finally took a spot across from the woman with the orange hair, I turned my eyes at her. She had stripped off her outer vest revealing a white dress shirt, if I remember correctly. There was one distinct thing I remember about her that day; and it was that she did not have a necklace on.  
  
That couldn't be right... Could it?  
  
"Don't you wear a necklace?" I asked. Out of all the questions I asked, that had to be the dumbest. If she had a look of amusement before, now she was completely dumbstruck.  
  
Almost reflexively, she placed a hand over the center of her chest to where I was sure the necklace should be. Great, now I've upset my hostess. The woman who knows more about me than I do. Or leads my vulnerability to think so anyway.  
  
"I used to," she began, looking off to a place I couldn't find, "I even bought myself a new one. But you never gave me..."  
  
She stopped. I wanted her to continue, to reveal maybe another part of myself that she was hiding for... decency's sake, maybe? Damn it, I wanted to know everything I find myself perplexed about when I wake in the morning! After meeting this woman with the ginger curls, my curiosity was uncontrollably.  
  
Now I definitely knew I was missing too much.  
  
"Never gave you what?" I found myself asking.  
  
She stared at me apologetically. "I am not the one who should be telling you these stories. It wouldn't be fair to her." I wanted to choke her.  
  
Instead of lashing across the room and forcing information out of her, which I decided wouldn't be such a bright idea for my not so bright self, I could only gape when she walked over to me, and stared down into my eyes.  
  
"If only we knew where to find her..." 'Julie' whispered, half to herself and half to me. I couldn't find it in me to ask who this 'her' was, especially when she placed her hand on top of mine.  
  
"J-Juri...?"  
  
Her eyes became olive slants. "We need to get you some things from your place, don't we?" She stood up and walked away without mentioning the fact that I called her Juri.  
  
Oh crap. I did call her that, didn't I? Thankfully, I don't think she noticed.  
  
From there, we went to her car that probably cost more than my distorted life, and she requested for me to give her directions to my house.  
  
I had no idea how to get there. All I knew was my cozy path to and from school. The streets and people were all foreign to me. I felt like I was in another country, even though I didn't even know what country I was in. While Juri took it upon herself to drive to random apartment buildings to see if I recognized any, I became more attentive. And it was then I realized... There were no street signs. No signs welcoming voyagers to this city. There was nothing.  
  
What the hell is this place?  
  
After a painful, and long, lapse of time, she drove into a parking lot I was sure I knew. From there I led her to my little dwelling shelter on the thirteenth floor.  
  
I jumbled around, searching for clothing, toiletries, anything. But it seemed that my only possessions were a toothbrush and the red sweater I always wear. Julie-Juri was standing outside my door, but she soon came in with a handful.  
  
"Don't you ever check your mail?" she asked with a grin before setting the stuff on a table. I figured I'd sound stupid if I asked what 'mail' was, so I didn't.  
  
"They're all postcards..." she mused. I hovered over her to watch as she laid out each one. They're pretty, I thought, each one had a different section of a big garden on it.  
  
Roses... It was a Rose Garden. And in it were orange and green roses. But those don't exist...They can't. My professor said so. But they're right here, in the pictures that aren't paintings anymore than I am.  
  
They're real.  
  
Julie was utterly fascinated by them. She held each and every picture to her face to get a close look. After a few minutes, she laid each one out next to the other. All together, they formed one grand photograph of an exquisite, rainbow-decorated garden.  
  
In the bottom corner was a stone ledge. I squinted to read the letters, but it wasn't a language I recognized (Never mind the fact that I don't even know my own name).  
  
And she noticed too. Quickly, she gathered them all into one pile. I stared at her for a little while. For a brief moment, I could see her huddled over broken shards of metal instead of paper. But in my vision she was different. Younger, and much more disturbed.  
  
"Mickey will be able to translate this for us. Roses, of course. You never change..." She shook her head nostalgically, and I knew she couldn't have been talking to me.  
  
After I hurriedly gathered my meager amount of possessions, we set out to that same bar.  
  
It was as if he hadn't moved. The boy with the blue hair was idly setting his hands to the keys of the piano, filling the drunken people with a lulling tune to drift into unconsciousness with. Julie called him aside between numbers, and he smiled at me sympathetically before admitting conversation.  
  
Without a word, Julie handed him the stack of postcards I had apparently received from some anonymous person. How could someone know my address if I didn't have one?  
  
His eyes squinted as he tried to decipher the tiny lettering through the smoky air. He must have had an epiphany or something, because his eyes lit up and he shook me by the arms before sharing his discovery with us.  
  
"These must be from her..."  
  
"What does it say?" Juri asked impatiently.  
  
Miki looked at the postcard one last time before giving me a hopeful glance. "It says, 'I await you here.'"  
  
They both looked at me, expecting some sort of reaction. I can't say I had one; after all, I had no idea who 'I' or 'here' was...  
  
Julie wrapped an arm around my shoulder and rubbed her knuckles into my scalp. God, that hurt.  
  
"It's time to get you ready for your little rendezvous..." 


	3. There Are Times 3

Chapter 3...  
  
To the readers who continually support this story, as well as my others... SafariGirl, Myself The Great, DramaNerd, and AnimeGirl. Thank you so much for being patient and supportive... Your feedback and opinions are always welcome. ^^  
  
*~*~*  
  
There are times when I wonder how any of this ever came to be. How these two people that I've just met seemed so interested with my future with yet another person I didn't know. And I also ponder over the fact that I let them.  
  
I let them arrange train tickets for me as I idly stood before that painting in Julie's hallway. They spent weeks trying to backtrack the postcards since there wasn't something called a 'return address' on them.  
  
"She's definitely here..." Mickey pointed to some spot on a map. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I wasn't sure about the other woman's reaction. She was probably frowning, or doing that stupid cocky grin. Wait never mind, she only seems to give that to me.  
  
"You know, if she wants her 'old friend' to come back to her, then she shouldn't have made this so damn difficult."  
  
"Hmm. Well, you know she never did anything simply..." The little pianist commented.  
  
How about they ask me what I think about it? I know it wouldn't do any good, seeing as how my thought process is about as null and void as my memory of that stupid scar below my chest cavity. But I do have my pride, after all.  
  
But they didn't ask me, and I didn't bother to interject anything that would have just made me sound more clueless than I already was.  
  
That girl. The one in the painting...  
  
So, I got aboard a train to somewhere far off, where I suppose the postcard girl is waiting for me. Julie/Juri never told me where they were sending me. She only gave me this far off, nostalgic look, which made me wish I knew what she was feeling sentimental about.  
  
She also tried to dress me up to make me look 'presentable.' I refused to wear anything beside my red sweater. If she doesn't wear her necklace, why should I wear some stupid dressy get-up?  
  
The boy with the blue hair seemed pretty confident in me, I think. Maybe that was why they never gave me any advice or pointers.  
  
Maybe that was why I never asked for any? No, I'm not confident. I'm a dazed and confused girl who follows along with what outlandish strangers tell me to do because I don't know any better. In any case, there was something about them...  
  
Too bad it's too late to tell them now. As I sit here, in my window seat on this train, indolently staring at the trees going by, I begin to seriously think (Perhaps for the first time in my existence) about some of the things that Julie woman had said to me.  
  
Wait, trees? I thought I lived in a city...  
  
Well, I do recall her saying a lot of somethings about roses. Beautiful, full roses blooming from my bust. It didn't sound anything short of ridiculous. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. In a familiar way, as simple as forgetting what I had done last holiday until a friend reminded me. Except for the fact that I don't have any friends... It doesn't seem right to consider Juri and Miki 'friends,' seeing as how we just met, and didn't exactly talk all that much about anything besides me.  
  
Instinctively, I placed my hand over my breast. In the same place Juri put hers as she whispered to me fairy tales about a prince who came to a girl while she mourned the death of her parents. Not only was this girl saved by a handsome prince, but he also showed her something eternal. Another young female, about her age, waiting in agony and despair for a brave soul to believe in.  
  
And as I gaze out this window to the false world before me, I feel once again that I've betrayed someone who meant more than the world to me. I've promised someone something. A person that I had just met who deserved my love and protection. What good am I, to have forgotten this pact between a damaged spirit and a desolated princess?  
  
I can see her now. Without realizing what I see, my vision construes into her silhouetted form, being stabbed and ripped by weapons that could be only be wrought by mankind's selfish and destructable nature.  
  
So, this is you?  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
A person's hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my reminiscent stare out the window. Looking her up and down, that strange phase I entered faded, along with whatever it was I recalled during it.  
  
"Is it all right if I sit here?" The woman asked for the first time I heard, but in actuality the tenth.  
  
I nodded acceptance, and hardly looked as she sat down in the free aisle seat beside me. After a few minutes, a benign curiosity tugged at my eyes. I turned my head to look at her, and lost my breath at the color of her hair.  
  
Purple. Just like the girl in Juri's painting.  
  
But no, it wasn't the same girl. I could tell; I remembered from the dark skin tone and hair length. This was a different woman. But still, she was awfully familiar. Familiar in the same way Juri and Miki were to me.  
  
"You don't remember me, do you?"  
  
I broke my long stare with a surprised batter of my eyelids. No, I don't, I wanted to say to her. But I do remember your assertive, brash and harmful nature. You were always so cruel to...  
  
And then it clicked.  
  
"No, and I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," I answered as coolly as I thought possible.  
  
"That's a pity..." she crossed her legs smoothly, despite the cramped space offered between the seats. "You've changed."  
  
Changed? That's funny, I've been this way as long as I can remember. Who's to say, whether I have a past to remember or not. Maybe I've done that thing, you know, I think they call it selective memory loss. When there's a part of your life that you want out so badly, memories you wish you didn't have, that you block it out so that eventually even you have no idea it ever happened.  
  
But I want to remember. I know I do.  
  
"We've all changed, I suppose..." she began, in a voice not as husky as I expected, "You're only the second I've met since it happened," She spoke of 'it' like it was an earth shattering event that needn't have an explanation. "And I don't suppose I have to ask who it is you're traveling to find."  
  
"Do you know?" I found myself asking.  
  
She grinned at me. Almost in that way Julie did, but with a little twist to it. How come I can remember her? Everything about this woman, the things she did, the lies she told, and even the way I had been ignorant of the pain she was causing Juri.  
  
But I can't remember anything about me.  
  
"Of course I do. I can't speak for anyone else, but after time it all came back to me," she tossed her short purple hair to the side. I wondered if Juri has seen her since this whatever lifetime or place they all were talking about. Probably not. I bet there are reasons why we've all been kept apart. Whoever 'we' is.  
  
"Well, this is my stop," she stood up as placidly as she had sat down, acting as if nothing could ever affect her.  
  
Of all the things I could have asked her, I instead watched her walk away from me with an impeccable expression in her mischievous eyes.  
  
Wow, she was an odd one. Anyway, I'll show her. That stupid Shiori girl. I'll find whoever it is I'm looking for, and prove that I can accomplish my goals without lying, or being deceitful, or hurting anyone in the process.  
  
When my stop came, (Albeit I wasn't sure which one was mine, I just sort of guessed) I descended the train at the station, with no one waiting for me, and no one to pick me up.  
  
Feeling determined and not undermined at all by the setbacks, I picked up my light suitcase of a few belongings and items Juri insisted that I take, and set out on a lone adventure for that someone of my dreams.  
  
"I'll find you, I swear... No matter what it cost."  
  
Somewhere inside of me, I knew I would have to own up to those words. 


	4. There Are Times 4

Chapter 4...  
  
*~*~*  
  
I know this one is late in coming compared to most of my mother chapters, but school work is keeping me down. Along with all of my other writing projects, I'm a busy girl ^_^  
  
*~*~*  
  
There are times when I wonder how I survived in a city on my own, with neither street sense nor common sense. Whether it was my blind faith, devotion, or a string of coincidental occurrences and good luck, I will never know. I wonder how a girl, as unaware of the goings on both outside and inside, could have ever hoped to make it through in a world where I could never hope to fit in.  
  
That's why being in a strange city really required no adjustment for me.  
  
Deciding on first things first, I gathered the little sense I had and settled on finding myself a hotel. With Juri's enormous bank account at my disposal, (She lent me a credit card to use 'as I saw fit') I really had naught to worry about in the form of material wealth. I can't ever remember purchasing any luxuries for myself, and even though she offered for me to blow her cash, it wasn't like I could actually do something like that. I don't like taking things from people, I don't think...  
  
Anyway, I had to get myself a place to stay. So, not looking to squander Juri's generous abundance, I went to the closest and most modest hotel I could find. I think it was a motel or something... One of those bed and breakfast deals where the bed sheets are more yellow than white, and the stench is strong enough to drive away starving mice.  
  
But I've never been picky anyway.  
  
I checked in, set all of my one bag aside, and tried to get situated to the strong aroma. It was, plain to say, homely. As much as I'd hate to admit, I was used to Juri's lavish living conditions. But the single bed, out of date television on the antique wooden dresser, and faded flower curtains over the windows made me feel prepared. Prepared for what, though, I couldn't say...  
  
The only check list was to make sure the toilet flushed. It did, and I was hurt to find the mirror was intact. I hate mirrors, I think I've said that before, but to look at my own eyes and wonder why they're blue, hate the ugly color of my hair, and fondle the scar on my lower chest cavity brings me no joy.  
  
I hate my body. Whether it is more because I don't understand it, or don't have anyone else to appreciate it, I don't know. Julie has curves, Miki has a beautiful personality, and all I have is this unexplainable scar and an empty expression to match my empty head.  
  
When I was finished loathing my ugly reflection, I walked my room in circles, trying to find something to occupy myself with to take my mind off what I was really there to do. I looked at the television again, but no, I hate watching happy couples on television.  
  
They're all male and female couples, anyway.  
  
The drawer, for some unbeknownst reason, caught my eye. And so I opened it up. Not sure what I was expecting to find, but all that was in there was some book. Deciding that I had nothing better to do (Well I did, I was just sort of avoiding it...) I pulled it out and crashed onto the bed. It was hardbound, leather or something, with gold trimming and the works.  
  
Yeah, the book was pretty fancy. And then I looked at the cover. Apparently it was the "Holy Bible." Now, either because of my lack of understanding or care for ethereal things that either don't exist or will just build you up with blind hope to only leave you crashing down into a deeper hell than you started in...  
  
What am I talking about?  
  
I guess I mean that I don't see how books can be holy. This 'holy' book also had two of those ribbon bookmark things. One of them was purple, and the other pink, like my hair. The purple one was first, so I opened up to that page to find a line highlighted in yellow.  
  
The top of the page said 'Matthew' on it, and it was underneath the big six. The words read something like, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."  
  
I didn't get it. Treasure? Heart? Hah... What an idea. I soaked in these words for a little while, trying to make sense of them and why I knew the color purple had to be associated with it in some way. As always, when I purposely tried remembering something, I drew a blank. So I moved on to the pink bookmark.  
  
The highlighted section here was a little longer. But curious and unsettled, I read it anyway.  
  
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."  
  
Yeah, as if I would know anything about love. In fact, I'm not any of those qualities. I've never known patience...  
  
You should know above all. You were there, weren't you? You saw how I always forced myself in, got what I wanted, I even slept with that fucking man because I had lost patience for my prince.  
  
I could never do any of those things for you... I couldn't protect you, God knows I tried as hard as the amount of faith I put in you... And then you were gone. Look, you left me, and now I'm pointing the finger at your wrongs like it was all your fault. I failed you, princess with the lavender hair... I failed you and I've lost every ounce of trust, perseverance, and protection I ever had.  
  
I'm the one that needs to be protected now.  
  
A loud thud surprised me out of my thoughts, and it came to my surprise to see that I had thrown the book across the room and left a dent in the whitewashed confinement. I don't give a shit anyway. I wouldn't have even if it was one of Juri's perfect walls.  
  
It was then that I saw her for the first time.  
  
A fleeting image, more rapid than the flicker of pain after the poke of a needle, but also with the same throbbing traces at my fingertips. She was there. Maybe not really there, of course, but her presence swarmed my entire being. And in that short moment I knew who it was I had been missing this entire time.  
  
Her. Whoever 'her' was.  
  
There was a smile on her lips. An unfamiliar, yet comforting smile. She was challenging me, I think, to go find her. If I dared.  
  
It isn't like I had anything to lose.  
  
And when she was gone... When the beautiful angel with the milk chocolate covered skin left me, I felt more alone than I could have ever imagined possible. For the life of me, all details beside her facial features and the fact I needed her with me now were lost among the damaged nerve endings in my brain.  
  
But I saw her once. So I knew I would see her again.  
  
My time in that hotel room, aside from that event and my lapses between desperately trying to scraps up bits of memory and breaking random pieces of pottery, are lost to me. In my records of the search for myself, I cannot find any of it holding relevance, so therefore I will not bore you with any trite details.  
  
Until another strange meeting fell upon me.  
  
Room service came to call on me. And this room service, apparently, knew a whole lot about me. Just like everyone else I seem to come across...  
  
I was in the corner of my room, reading that passage from the Holy Bible again, trying to make sense of it, when she came in.  
  
Her eyes met me, and the window cleaner the girl was holding met the floor.  
  
"My God! It's you!"  
  
For some reason, that response didn't shock me like it should have.  
  
The girl looked me up and down, making sure I was the real deal before saying anything more. I did the same to her, trying to trick my mind into already knowing who she was. It didn't work, and even though I am not a people person, I could read a lot of her. She was obvious, an open book, far unlike Julie. Her purple eyes played a fake innocence to hide the misgivings inside of them. Yeah, she seemed like one of those mischievous types.  
  
She fidgeted a bit. Then, acting like she had a reputation to uphold, (Not like I would remember anyway,) she regained her posture and almost snuffed at me.  
  
"About time you showed up," She glared at me, though I could tell she didn't really want to be. "We all thought you were dead."  
  
At least this would be a lot easier than my other acquaintances.  
  
"Okay then," I said without looking up from the book. "Can you take me to her?"  
  
She was silent for a while. Maybe she figured she owed me nothing. Or maybe she was fighting to find some goodness inside of her heart. Either way, she gave a loud sigh and abruptly agreed.  
  
"I can't. But I can find someone who can."  
  
Of course. I shut the book for the first time, and looked up at her again.  
  
Love Never Fails.  
  
*~*~*  
  
I am hoping you all know who this character is... ^^ Anyway, I know this was even more abstract, and parts probably didn't make any sense... But I am trying to convey it through Utena, and since this is vague and makes no sense for her, I wanted to try and take the reader on the same journey... 


	5. There Are Times 5

Chapter 5...  
  
There are times when I seriously contemplate the existence of a god. When my dysfunctional mind finds the ability to stay stable for a moment long enough to sort out my thoughts, I find myself riding a white mare. I'm not riding alone, in my thoughts, there is a man wearing a white suit. Well tailored, I think, compared to my red sweater. He is black. So black, that I cannot see his eyes, his teeth, the wrinkles around his knuckles as he holds the reins, or even the separate strands of his long hair.  
  
This man brings me to a fork in our path. The two paths are the different sides of the scale for my inner argument on the existence of a higher being. One path is the negative side, telling me that no spiritual deity can exist. What is god? How is there a god, better yet, that could scatter one of his creations on an atomic level and laugh aloud while she tries to put together the pieces of her deranged mind back together? I want to go down this road...  
  
Then my guide points a long finger to remind me of the other path. I notice his shirt is unbuttoned underneath his suit jacket, but for some reason the sight makes me blush and I look away. I see that journey of thought. Positive. There must be a god, that trail says, because he is obviously helping me put my life back together. These strange meetings and coincidences are his way of righting whatever wrong has befallen me.  
  
It's too bad I don't know what that wrong is.  
  
Well, those thoughts are as far as I ever get before my trance gets interrupted by an outside force. If I had a sense of humor, I bet I'd find it funny that concentrating for me requires a complete loss of substance and time. And that I need a mysterious man on a white horse wearing a white suit to help me sort out my thoughts.  
  
Except when I think of her...  
  
But is he good? Or is he bad? I really can't decide... His whole being is black. He doesn't even have any eyes. But his suit was so white... Whiter than the milk I pour on my cereal.  
  
Maybe he's both. Is it possible for one man to be the sole essence of good and evil?  
  
"So, where have you been all this time?"  
  
I snap out of my daze to find myself in a car. Oh yeah, the Room Service girl is taking me to meet someone...  
  
Great. Somebody else that already knows who I am.  
  
I really wish I had an answer for her. But I didn't, of course, because there was no evidence of that place ever truly existing. Sure, it was there, my cozy little apartment about a block away from the university I walked to almost every day. But there was no proof. No names, no signs, no nothing. I was just there, blissful in my ignorance until Juri had to pull me aside and give me a taste of what I had been missing. Or what I had forgotten, or whatever...  
  
My unresponsiveness must have triggered her because she spoke again. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're acting so... weird."  
  
Weird? Well, if that was the case, she was going to get pretty damn sick of me really soon, because this is how I always act. Confused, unsure, and 'weird.' At least my voice wasn't shrilly and annoying like hers. She flicked aside a lock of blond hair and kept driving.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
The cross look she gave me hinted that I must still be acting out of character. I didn't know I had a role I was supposed to fill... but she, just like Juri and Miki and that girl on the train (I think her name is Sharie, or something...) thought otherwise. I was liking this girl less. At least none of the others yelled at me. At least they weren't spoiled rotten incestuous bimbos that preyed off of other people's weaknesses for their own benefit. Except for Sharie. But Sharie only hurt Julie, I mean Juri, she never tried to hurt my Princess.  
  
...What?  
  
"I already told you where we're going, now don't make me repeat myself."  
  
It's a good thing she didn't give me a direct answer, because I wasn't listening to her. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Curry, photographs, and strange animals...  
  
I really hate Curry, too.  
  
"What's your name?" Stupid to ask, I know, but it was the only thing I could do to stop myself from leaning across the car and choking the obnoxious breath out of her lungs.  
  
I think I really hate her. Then I think I don't hate anybody. Then I think that I might not hate her so much if I knew her story... her secrets...  
  
She was completely appalled. I guess I was supposed to remember her name, because she is more important than anybody else existing in this fake world. Or so she likes to think.  
  
"Call me Natalie," she hissed. Then her shallow purple eyes glared at me. "Can you tell me your name?"  
  
"My name?" I found my fingers fidgeting with the long sleeves of my sweater. "Umm... Well..."  
  
She cut me off with an impatient grunt. "Whatever. Well, I'm sure he'll help you remember more. He knows more about you than I ever did."  
  
I think the emotion that plagued her face at that moment was jealousy. Or just pure anger at me, but I can't say I knew why.  
  
The car came to a stop and she yanked me out of my seat. My only suitcase was in her hand, and she dragged me to the door as if to tell me she was only doing this because she felt obligated to. I didn't want her pity. I wanted her to let go of my only sweater and let me go back to that dirty hotel and wallow in my misery with the holy book that had messages for me that I don't understand. I'd rather have a stupid book tell me I was worthless than hear it from this girl.  
  
Love never fails, indeed.  
  
I didn't have the energy to make her let me go, so she pulled me to the doorway. Must have been her house, because she stormed in unexpectedly and tossed my suitcase on the table. Natalie threw it too hard, too. The clasps came undone and out spilled all of my postcards with the rainbow rose garden pictures.  
  
We both stared at the pile for a long time.  
  
Her fingers gingerly reached out for the postcard that mostly had pictures of yellow roses. Her eyes narrowed and grew moist; her eyelashes batted more often than before and her hand began to shake. Why was the sight of roses that were impossible colors so touching to these people? Why where these memories so disturbing to some, yet enlightening to others?  
  
Why did I forget?  
  
My hand absently fondled the scar below my chest. She stared me down, wishing that her will could trade our positions... That I could remember, and she could forget. But nothing happened, and she set the image down on the floor where it had fallen.  
  
The postcards were all picture side up. And they formed one large image of a beautiful Rose Garden...  
  
"What the hell is this?!" she shrieked, sensing the witchcraft in the air.  
  
I shrugged. "You did it, not me."  
  
"Stop being a smart ass! What are these pictures of? Where did you get them?!"  
  
Before I could respond to her hysteria, a tall, and I riskily admit beautiful, man stood in my line of vision.  
  
He smiled, just like I knew he would.  
  
"I knew you would come back to me, my Princess..."  
  
A/N – Yeah, sorry for the funny names... I did my best to come up with ones that sounded similar to their true identities. I must apologize for the horrible delay, I got sidetracked with tons of other writing projects. Thank you to those of you who remembered this story and begged for me to continue with it! This chapter is for you. 


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